Gennady's Tale

Chapter 8

If there was one advantage to exam season, Gennady discovered, it was that even Charlus was worked so hard he had no time to be an asshole.

It was the only advantage, as far as he could tell. Everyone felt as if they were being worked to death. Gennady, Simon and Lyndred studied and studied and studied, before being herded into the exam halls, searched for contraband and cheating aids and then set to work. The practical side of the exams wasn't too bad, but Gennady sweated blood about the theoretical questions. They were too complex for his tastes, too complex for him to simply bluff his way though. He was morbidly certain he’d completely failed the exams by the time they finished the final set of papers. He’d have to retake the year from the start.

He couldn’t afford to relax, once the exams were over. He had no idea what he’d do over the summer or where he’d go. His friends hadn’t invited him to stay with them, yet ... could he stay at school? Or should he go home? He’d looked up how to get home, but ... he had no money. How would he get back to the mountains without money? He was still mulling it over when he was called into the Housemaster’s office, two weeks after the exams.

“Gennady,” Fredrick said. He hadn’t changed a bit in the year Gennady had known him. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Gennady shook his head. He hadn’t done anything, had he? He’d been too busy taking the exams, then recovering from the exams. “No, sir.”

“You’re expected to spend the summer doing work experience,” Fredrick informed him. “Was this not discussed with you last month?”

“... I don’t recall,” Gennady temporised. He didn’t remember. He’d been cramming facts, figures and spell diagrams into his mind for the exams. “I ...”—he gritted his teeth, feeling the ground shifting under his feet once again—“I don’t recall.”

“Evidently,” Fredrick said. He sounded irked, although—for once—Gennady didn’t think it was directed at him. “Your progress through the year has been good, but borderline. You haven’t attracted any patron who might be interested in taking you on for the summer. I’m afraid you’ll be going back to Dragon’s Den.”

“To the boarding house?” Gennady wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He hadn’t visited the town in months, ever since Charlus had ruined it for him. “What am I meant to be doing there?”

“You’ll be working as a shop assistant in one of the apothecaries.” Fredrick held up a hand. “I appreciate this probably isn’t what you wanted to do. However ... you don’t have a choice.”

Of course not, Gennady thought. Bitterness welled up in him, again. There’s no way anyone would take me as a client.

“Thank you, sir,” he managed. “I ...”

“You’ll be staying at the boarding house from tomorrow till term resumes, after summer,” Fredrick told him. He picked up a parchment scroll and passed it to Gennady. “I advise you to spend what time you can studying. Your grasp of the basics has improved since our last conversation, but you still have a long way to go. You may find yourself advised to retake the year.”

Gennady winced. He’d heard stories of students who’d had to retake the year. They were mocked, even though retaking the year would have given them more time to master the basics. He hated to think what Charlus would have said, if Gennady had had to retake the year. The bastard would make fun of him for years, damn him.

“Think about it,” Fredrick advised. He nodded to the door. “You can go now.”

“Wait,” Gennady said. “Why ... why can’t I stay here?”

Fredrick’s lips twitched. “You’d want to stay here?”

Gennady nodded, unwilling to speak. Whitehall had Charlus, but ... it also had showers and baths and good food and the library and everything else that was missing from the Cairngorms. The showers alone were wonderful. He hadn’t realised just how badly he’d stunk—how his family back home had stunk—until he’d stepped into the shower and watched the torrent of water wash away the mud and dung and everything else. The school was wonderful. There was a part of him that wished he could stay forever.

“It’s the summer,” Fredrick said. “We rarely let pupils stay, outside term. Us teachers do require breaks, you know.”

“Yes, sir.” Gennady nodded, reluctantly. “Thank you, sir.”

He stepped through the door, refusing to let himself sag until it closed behind him. He wasn’t going to get to go home. He ... he snorted at himself for wanting to go home, even though he knew enough magic—now—to teach Hogarth a lesson he’d never forget. It would be easy, so easy, to turn him into a mouse and throw him to the cats. And there was Primrose. She’d listen to his suit now, wouldn’t she? Her father certainly would.

The thought comforted him as he walked back to the dorms and peered into the common room. Simon and Lyndred were sitting in comfortable armchairs, looking as tired as Gennady felt. They smiled at him as he entered, but there was something slightly off about their smiles. Gennady understood, better than he cared to admit. The three of them had worked themselves to the bone over the last few weeks. Right now, all they wanted to do was sleep.

“Charlus is playing games outside,” Simon said, waving a hand at the wall. “He’s going to lose.”

“Let’s hope so,” Gennady agreed, as he took a seat. There had been no way to avoid Charlus’s bragging over having secured a place on a sports team. Gennady didn’t care. It kept Charlus from bothering him at night. “I’m going to Dragon’s Den for the summer.”

Simon blinked. “What for?”

Gennady sighed. “Apparently, I’m going to be a shop-boy,” he said. “Or something like that.”

“Ouch.” Simon winced. “I’m going to Coven. I’ll be working there ...”

“I ... I’m happy for you,” Gennady said. He’d hoped to see Simon in Dragon’s Den. He kicked himself. He should have realised that Simon would be going elsewhere for his work experience. “What ... what did they tell you?”

“That there was a magician who’d taken an interest in me,” Simon said, awkwardly. “And that I was to make of that what I liked.”

Gennady tried to keep the envy off his face. If someone had said that in the mountains, it would only have meant one thing. But here ... he still didn’t understand how sorcerers could build up elaborate patronage networks that tied masters and students into endless chains of obligation. The whole system made no sense to him. But it had also rejected him. If someone had taken an interest in him ...

Simon’s smart. Gennady tried to feel happy for his friend. He’ll go far.

He forced himself to look at Lyndred. “What about you?”

“Apparently, I’m going to spend the summer with a wandering healer,” Lyndred said, a little too brightly. “He travels with a bard. Imagine that.”

Gennady snorted. He’d met a handful of bards, men who made a living traveling from place to place and singing for their supper. They’d had a kind of glamour that even Hogarth had respected, although most folk regarded them as weaklings who’d never done a real day’s work in their lives. Girls talked of running off with them all the time, but Gennady had never known anyone who had. If rumour was to be believed, anyone unfortunate enough to do so would be dumped the moment she fell pregnant. The poor girl would never be able to return home.

“Watch yourself,” he warned. “Bards can be ... dangerous.”

Lyndred’s eyes flashed fire. “I can look after myself.”

Gennady opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. Lyndred had magic. She could look after herself. And even if she hadn’t had magic, her family had power. Real power. It would protect her.

“Do you want to be a healer?” Simon changed the subject, a little too quickly. “You’ll spend most of your life making people better.”

“There are worse things to be,” Lyndred pointed out. “And a healer can practically write her own ticket.”

She looked at Gennady. “What about you? Have you thought about what you want to be?”

Gennady shook his head. “I have to get through six years—five years—of schooling,” he said. “And survive whatever he throws at me.”

“Charlus will be sleeping somewhere else next term,” Simon said. “We’ll be able to sleep properly for once.”

“Yeah.” Gennady wasn’t so sure. Simon was his only friend. His only male friend. The odds were good he’d be sharing a room with one of Charlus’s cronies. Thankfully, Charlus seemed to think his friends—the nasty part of Gennady’s mind insisting Charlus was paying his friends to be friends—should come to him, instead of going to them. “You think we should ask to share a room again?”

“I checked.” Simon scowled. “It isn’t allowed, unless we get special dispensation.”

“And we won’t.” Gennady felt another surge of bitterness. “We’re nothing special.”

He forced himself to stand. “I’m going to the library,” he said. “Coming?”

Simon and Lyndred exchanged glances. “We’re going to go for a walk,” Simon said. “We’ll see you later.”

And you don’t want me along, Gennady thought. He wasn’t sure where that had come from, although ... he felt something twist inside him as he remembered, once again, that Simon and Lyndred were from the same town. They had something in common, something Gennady didn’t share. And you don’t have everything at stake.

He nodded to them and left the room, feeling alone. Simon and Lyndred were ... happy where they were. Their families didn’t consider them outcast—it crossed his mind, suddenly, that his family might have disowned him completely—and their siblings weren’t planning to kill them. Gennady’s clubfoot ached, despite all the salves he’d smeared on it. His older brother might have left the village, but his younger brothers would kill him if they were given a chance. Simon and Lyndred could afford to relax. Gennady could not. He wanted—he needed—to learn as much as he could before he was kicked out.

Perhaps I should apply to repeat the year, despite the shame, he mused, as he walked into the library. It was nearly empty, save for a trio of older students working their way through a giant pile of books. It would give me more time ...

He shook his head as he chose a selection of books for himself. The advantages—he wouldn’t be sharing classes with Charlus and his cronies—would be heavily outweighed by the disadvantages. No one would regard him as a great magician if he had to repeat the year. And Charlus would boss him around ... the older students were allowed, even expected, to treat the younger students as their servants. Gennady snorted, inwardly. There’d be no change there, then.

The dinner bell rang, three hours later. Gennady placed the books on the trolley—one cold lecture from the librarian on not putting the books back on the shelves had been quite enough—and headed down to dinner. The hall was nearly empty, surprisingly enough. Simon and Lyndred were nowhere to be seen. Gennady wondered, suddenly, if they were courting. They were from the same social class ... he felt a twinge of envy, which he pushed aside with an effort. It wasn’t as if he was interested in Lyndred. He had Primrose.

Maybe I can find a way to sneak up to see her, before term resumes, he thought, as he took a tray of food and dug in. He was going to miss the school, even though the boarding house served good food too. I’m sure she’d be happy to see me.

He finished eating and made his way back to the dorms. A grim-faced older student stood outside the door, arms crossed over her breasts. Gennady hesitated, wondering if he should turn around and go in the other direction before screwing up his nerve and walking past her and into the chamber. Something had happened, a few days ago, something that ... he shook his head. He hadn’t heard the details, but it had clearly crossed a line. Perhaps it had been Charlus’s fault. He would have bet money on it, if he had money.

The room felt ... odd, as if it wasn’t his any longer. He glanced around, making sure he was alone before parting the wards around his bed and checked for unwanted surprises. The exams were over. Charlus had time, now, to resume his bullying ways if he wished. He’d be in a perfectly beastly mood if his team lost, too. Gennady hoped Charlus had lost. It wasn’t as if he’d be any nicer if he’d won.

Gennady sighed, then opened the drawer and gazed upon his handful of possessions. He didn’t have much that was truly his. Even the clothes he’d brought from the mountains didn’t feel like his. He’d known they’d been passed down from wearer to wearer for the past few decades, mended and patched so often they weren’t the same garment any longer. He ... he packed what little he had in his trunk, putting the school clothes aside. They’d be passed down to the next wearer, he was sure. He’d get new ones when he returned for his second year of schooling.

And I don’t have much else, he thought. He’d been given a journal and a handful of quills, when he’d walked into the charms classroom, but ... there was little else that was truly his. He had no money, no toys and games, none of the vast array of possessions that Charlus claimed as his own. The boy threw around more wealth than Gennady had seen in his entire life. It just isn’t fair.

His heart clenched again as his vision blurred. It really wasn’t fair. He’d worked so hard, studied so desperately ... he’d even gone to the library after Lights Out, instead of raiding the kitchens or trying to sneak into the female dorms. He’d worked so hard, yet ... he scowled as he realised, once again, just how lucky Charlus had been. The bastard had had years of training before he’d come into his magic. He’d known what to do with his power before he hit puberty.

Gennady heard the door opening and straightened up, quickly. He didn’t want Charlus —or Simon—to see him crying. And ... it was really too early for Simon to come back, if he was courting Lyndred. Gennady felt a wash of magic crossing the room and knew, with a sick certainty, that Charlus was behind him. It was bad manners to broadcast one’s magical power, he’d been told, but Charlus didn’t give a damn. Gennady turned, slowly. Charlus was in a good mood.

He won, Gennady thought, sourly. That’s unfortunate.

“We won,” Charlus said, echoing Gennady’s thoughts. “We won!”

Gennady bit down a sarcastic remark. It really wasn’t fair that Charlus was almost as good as he thought he was. The games captains would hardly have let him play if he hadn’t been good, no matter what bribes they were offered. They’d be seen as fools who threw victory away. And ... he shook his head. He didn’t care about games. He’d never been able to play at the village, let alone school. No one had wanted him on their side.

“And I’m off to the White City tomorrow,” Charlus added. “In your face, pig-boy!”

“Lucky you,” Gennady managed. Pig-boy? Pig-boy was a step up. Not, he supposed, that it made any difference to Charlus. “I ...”

“I’m going to be working with my father,” Charlus boasted. He started to undress, chattering all the while. “We’re going to be passing laws that tell people what to do.”

He went on and on, bragging about the people he intended to meet and what he intended to do with them. Gennady paid as little attention as possible. He was fairly sure Charlus was talking out his arse, but ... it just wasn’t fair. Charlus would have a chance to meet and impress all the movers and shakers, all the important magicians and mundanes who haunted the White City like flies on shit. He’d have a chance to make himself important ... it was hard to believe, somehow, that Charlus wasn’t that important. The aristocrat could probably get away with murder.

“And where are you going?” Charlus didn’t sound interested. “Dung-gathering? Or ...”

The door opened. Simon stepped into the room. “And where were you?” Charlus switched subjects at the drop of a hat. “Out with that ugly girl?”

Simon glared. “She’s not ugly,” he snapped.

“She does have nice legs,” Charlus said, with the air of one making a great concession. “And her tits are pretty big. But her face, a disgrace ...”

Gennady felt his cheeks burn, his fists clenching helplessly as Charlus went on and on. Lyndred was pretty. He wanted to defend her, but ... there was nothing he could do to defend her. Nothing at all, not when Charlus could simply brush his most powerful spells aside. Or stop him in his tracks, if he tried to hit the bully.

“She’d shame the backside of a cow,” Charlus continued. “Really.”

Gennady turned away. Dragon’s Den wasn’t much, but it did have one great advantage that made up for almost everything else. He clung to the thought, grimly, as he packed his possessions and clambered into bed. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had.

Charlus would be a very long way away.